User blog:Drifting Spirit/(Title): A Tragedy
yknow just putting this here since i cant link google docs lol i need an edgy title 'Pt. I' Beams of warm sunlight filtered through the crack in the velvet drapes that bordered the large bay window at the young boy’s beside, casting a splash of light onto his sleeping face. The sound of the curtain being drawn filled his ears, and the warmth of the sunlight poured onto his eyelids, but he clung to sleep and didn’t do so much as stir. “Good morning Enoch,” said a tender female voice, thick with an Indian accent. “It is time to awaken, young master.” She set a steaming pot of tea on the small table that flanked the side of the bed, “I have your tea.” No response. Maya’s shoulders dropped, and she put a hand on his trying to awake the sleeping boy. He mumbled and pulled the silky white covers over his head. As much as Enoch wanted to be, he wasn’t an early bird. He could probably sleep his whole day away without a problem. Enoch flinched as his maid gritted her teeth and ripped the covers off of his body, and opened his eyes one at a time, using his elbows to lift himself into a sitting position. “Good morning,” she repeated, and he watched as she filed a teacup to the brim with sweet-smelling tea and handed it to him. “Careful,” she warned, “It’s hot.” Enoch held the heavy china cup in his tiny hands and brought it to his lips anyway, sipping the tea. “Good morning, Maya,” he lazily spaced out the words. “It’s a pleasant day outside.” her long black braid whipped against her hips as she tucked it behind her shoulder and opened the window, allowing a humid Indian wind to flow into the room, bringing about the familiar smells of flowers and oranges. He liked the fresh air, but loathed the heat that swelled into the room. Maya decided to break the silence as she sifted through his neat drawers for an outfit. “Any dreams?” She asked him. “Yes, but I cannot recall what happened,” he replied, his lips tugging down into a tiny frown. “I wish I could remember, it seemed like a very good dream.” He delicately set the teacup on the metal tray and sighed, blowing his long bangs out of his eyes. “Dreams are like that,” she said, laying out an outfit and beginning to unbutton his nightgown. “It must have been very pleasant though,” she added just to cheer him up. “I suppose it’s a little like that.” His eyes followed her fingers as they undid each of the buttons, and slipped his arms out of the loose sleeves. “I do remember one thing.” “Like what, my lord?” “How many times must I tell you, call me Enoch!” He whined and childishly kicked his feet at her. “Like what, Enoch?” His thin, pale lips pressed into a thin, thoughtful line. “It had something to do with father.” “Ah.” She put his scrawny arms into the sleeves of a white shirt with an elegant ruffled collar, and put on his black shorts, and then his knee-high stockings, and shoes. She didn’t respond this time, and she knew better than to do so. His father wouldn’t be too fond of a poor maid intervening with his family life. Instead she tied his shoes, a skill the nine-year-old boy had not yet acquired, and probably never would. Enoch jumped off the edge of the bed, the short heels of his shoes clicking against the polished tile floors. He could hear Maya’s quiet footsteps behind him, and the feeling of her eyes on his back made him uneasy, so he slowed down and walked beside the tall maid. Category:Blog posts